She crossed the room and sat down beside me, her hand resting gently on my knee, the warmth grounding me. Faith didn’t say anything, didn’t push. Her presence felt steady and thoughtful, a silent promise that she would stay as long as I needed. I listened to the faint sound of her breath, and slowly, mine began to even out.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, sweetheart. But I’m here when you’re ready.”
I nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “I know.”
The diner was a blessing, a sanctuary wrapped in the smell of burned coffee and sizzling bacon.
The lunch rush was in full swing by the time I arrived, and I threw myself into work with a desperate kind of relief. The familiar chaos welcomed me like an old friend. Orders to take, scribbled hastily on my notepad as customers rattled off their usual requests. Tables to clear, stacking plates precariously high as I navigated between cramped booths. Coffee to refill, the dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as I made my rounds with the pot clutched in my tired hand. Mundane, repetitive tasks that required just enough focus to keep my mind from wandering to darker places, to questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Here, surrounded by the clatter of dishes and the hum of overlapping conversations, I could lose myself in the comforting rhythm of simple work.
I didn’t think about the pond. Didn’t think about his hands. Didn’t think about the way he whisperedJulieagainst my skin.
I just worked.
Stacey gave me a curious look when I walked in. Probably noticed the dark circles under my eyes, the way I moved a little too carefully, like someone who had barely slept and was running on fumes and sheer determination. But she didn’t ask questions. She was good like that, never prying, never pushing. She just handed me an apron and a notepad and pointed me toward the tables with a sympathetic nod that told me she understood I needed the distraction more than the paycheck.
I was refilling coffee for a table of truckers when the door chimed, and I glanced up out of habit. It was the kind of automatic response you developed after working in a diner long enough—look up, assess the new customers, calculate how long before they would need service.
My stomach dropped.
Four Diamondback brothers walked in, their cuts gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights, the leather worn and the patches unmistakable. I recognized them immediately—Trigger, Ashe, Bongo, and Lips. They were loud and boisterous, their voices carrying across the entire diner as they laughed about something, slapping each other’s backs and making crude jokes. They made their way to a booth in the corner, the one with the ripped vinyl seat that nobody ever wanted to fix, claiming it like they owned the place.
And right behind them, walking with his shoulders hunched and his eyes fixed on the floor, looking like he wanted to disappear into the cracked linoleum beneath his feet, was Angel.
“Well, well, well,” Trigger said loudly, his voice booming and carrying across the entire diner as he spotted me standing behind the counter. “Look who’s working the afternoon shift today, boys.”
Ashe grinned wickedly, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he elbowed Angel sharply in the ribs. “Ain’t that convenient, Angel? Your girl’s here serving coffee and pie.”
Angel’s face flushed a deep crimson red, the color spreading from his neck all the way up to his ears, and he shot Ashe a withering glare that could’ve melted steel. “Shut up.”
“Aw, don’t be shy, brother,” Bongo teased, sliding into the worn vinyl booth with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “You’ve been chasing this girl for what, six months now? Maybe longer? About time you made some actual progress instead of just staring at her like a lovesick puppy every time we come in here.”
I felt my own face heat up, a warm flush spreading across my cheeks as I approached their table with slow, measured steps, notepad clutched in my hand, trying my absolute hardest to keep my expression neutral and professional. “What can I get you guys?”
“Coffee all around,” Lips said, leaning back in his seat and giving me an appraising look that made me want to shrink into the floor. “And maybe an explanation for why you keep turning down our boy here.”
“Jesus Christ,” Angel muttered, rubbing a hand over his face like he wanted to disappear into his palm. “Can you guys not?”
“I mean, look at him,” Trigger interrupted, gesturing at Angel with a playful grin that told me he was enjoying this way too much. “He’s a good-looking guy. Got a steady job. Loyal as hell. Doesn’t even look at other women. What more do you want, sweetheart?”
“Trigger,” Angel started, his voice tight with embarrassment, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Maybe she’s waiting for him to grow a pair and actually ask her out properly,” Ashe said, smirking as he crossed his armsover his chest. “Instead of all this pining from a distance bullshit. It’s painful to watch, honestly.”
“Seriously, it’s like watching a puppy dog follow her around,” Lips added, clearly warming to the topic. “Just put the poor bastard out of his misery already.”
I bit the inside of my cheek hard, trying not to laugh despite the mortification burning through me like wildfire. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I could feel every pair of eyes in the diner turning our way. “I’ll get your coffee,” I murmured, turning to leave before I completely lost my composure.
“Hold up, darlin’,” Bongo said, his grin widening into something that looked almost predatory. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest like he had all the time in the world. “We’re just trying to help our brother out here. He’s been real patient with you. Real respectful ’cause you’re Shadow’s sister an’ all. Poor Angel’s been waiting around like a lovesick puppy for months now. But a man’s got needs, you know? Can’t expect him to wait forever.”
“Bongo, I swear to God.” Angel’s voice was low and dangerous now, a warning rumble that would’ve made most people back off. But the other brothers just laughed, slapping the table and elbowing each other like this was the best entertainment they’d had all week.
“What?” Bongo said innocently, spreading his hands wide and putting on an expression of exaggerated confusion. “I’m just saying, the boy’s been a goddamn saint. Most guys would’ve moved on by now, found someone who actually wanted them around. But not Angel. Nope. He’s still here, hanging around, waiting for you to give him a chance. That’s dedication right there.”
Lips leaned forward across the sticky table, his expression turning more serious, almost earnest. The laughter died down around us, and suddenly the entire group was watching me withvarying degrees of expectation. “He’s a good man, Hope. One of the best we got. Loyal, hardworking, doesn’t cause trouble. You could do a lot worse than Angel—trust me on that.”
I looked at Angel, who was staring at the table like he wanted it to swallow him whole. His jaw was tight, muscles jumping under his skin. His hands were clenched into fists on the tabletop, knuckles gone pale with the pressure. He looked absolutely miserable, like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than sitting here while his brothers auctioned off his romantic prospects.
And I felt... nothing.